


Cease Lying (fall into silence)

by snoopypez



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoopypez/pseuds/snoopypez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When you look how you looked then to me, then I cease lying and fall into silence.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cease Lying (fall into silence)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on livejournal in 2008  
> (summary and title from Okkervil River’s Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe.)

Ray and Fraser finally got over themselves and got together because of a haircut. Specifically, Ray’s haircut.

The morning after he got it cut, he picked Fraser up as usual, Diefenbaker shed all over the Riv’s backseat as usual, and Ray ran a couple red lights as usual.

What was _not_ usual was the way that Fraser kept trailing off in the middle of one of his stupid tales of good triumphing over evil. Ray would glance over and Fraser’s eye-line would drop from where he had clearly been staring at Ray’s hair.

Car stopped, Ray turned and said, “Okay, what? It’s not like I dyed my hair _green_ , Fraser, so why all the staring?”

Fraser said something about tactile feelings and an apology and before Ray knew it, Fraser’s fingers were on the back of Ray’s head, almost petting. And Ray had enough weirdness in his life to have to deal with Fraser suddenly _stroking_ his _scalp_ like that.

But then things made sense, which was a rare occurrence when Fraser was involved. And when they finally kissed, it was the first in a line of things that _weren’t_ weird.

_*two weeks later*_

“I think you meant _something_ , Ray.”

Ray looked up and blinked in confusion. Even for Fraser, that seemed random.

“You have the _t_ and the _h_ switched,” Fraser continued helpfully, nodding at the typewriter.

Of course. Ray gave a sigh of mild annoyance and started over, tip tip tapping away. He supposed he should really start using a computer.

A couple mistakes-pointed-out-by-Fraser later, Ray gave up.

Or to put it a different way, he decided to try something new.

_Fraser_ , he typed. Waited a beat.

Sure enough, Fraser could hear exactly what had been typed and he lifted his head from his book and turned to Ray. He was silent, eyebrow raised, also waiting.

Ray grinned and paid very close attention to the keyboard. Misspellings and mistakes would just cause Fraser to correct them again.

_You look good today._

And that – well, that had the effect Ray had been looking for.

The other eyebrow went up to join its mate and now it was Fraser’s turn to blink. When he actually glanced down at himself as if wondering how he looked, Ray couldn’t help but laugh.

The bullpen was busy that day; the crowded atmosphere kind of made Ray want to test things. Test Fraser.

_Really. Only thing I’d change is your hair._

Ray rested his chin on his hand and watched Fraser patiently. He could practically _feel_ how Fraser was keeping himself from bringing his hand to his hair.

_Looks better messed up._

With that, Ray leaned back in his chair, grabbed his coffee. He took a sip, eyes never leaving Fraser’s. It was obvious the exact moment Fraser started to _get it_ , his face tingeing pink no more than it did when he ran after a perp.

Ray was reaching for the keyboard again when Fraser raised a hand to his hair -- his perfect, immaculate hair -- and ran his fingers through it. It was a casual movement, probably one no one noticed as anything out of the ordinary. Then Fraser’s tongue darted out to his bottom lip and Ray almost dropped his coffee.

Ray cast a quick glance around the bullpen before meeting Fraser’s eyes again. There was heat there, a promise. Ray had to make himself look away so he could type.

_Better. But it’d look even better in your apartment._

That took a little longer for Fraser to decipher, which showed how distracted he was. Then he gave a brilliant smile, one that never failed to make Ray feel like a rich man. It was good, too, because the sudden tension was lessoned slightly; Ray didn’t feel quite so – urgent anymore.

Of course, that would change if he got the nerve to type exactly what he wanted.

_With you naked in your apartment._

That wasn’t quite it, but it would do for now.

It occurred to Ray that this was probably a form of sexual harassment. The thought made him smirk; he could just imagine Fraser’s nervous explanation to others. Actually, that part was a little terrifying.

But Fraser – man, Fraser did nothing but sit there and _look_ at Ray and Ray felt that urge, felt that tension, back times ten. He wondered if flashes of memory were going through Fraser’s head the way they were in his.

He’d blame it on the new relationship feeling, because right now Ray was seconds away from dragging Fraser to a closet or an empty room or maybe just behind a damn _filing cabinet_ and putting his hands wherever he could reach. He settled for putting his hands on the typewriter.

_I wanna touch you._

Fraser’s eyes were dark, his breath hitched; Ray could sense something building—

“ _Wanna_ is not a word, Ray.”

And Ray would have been annoyed by that if it wasn’t for the way Fraser _said_ it; low and just enough shake to it that Ray was pretty sure that was Fraser’s way of flirting. This was proven with Fraser’s next remark.

“Now, I’m afraid you’re out of staplers.” He stood, gave Ray a pointed look, and walked briskly away.

After a sufficient amount of time, Ray followed, slow and subtle. He was somewhat amused to find Fraser nowhere near the supply closet, but instead standing at the end of the hall at parade rest. Upon seeing Ray, Fraser turned on his heel and went into the men’s room.

Ray hesitated before joining him and was greeted with: “The supply closet was occupied,” and didn’t _that_ give Ray some unpleasant mental images.

“So you chose the _bathroom_?” He couldn’t think of many places less sexy than that.

“No one comes in here, Ray,” Fraser said, all patience and _knowing_ and then Ray found himself pressed against the door before he could blink.

Breath against Ray’s ear as Fraser leaned into him to lock the door. Fraser’s jacket, then suspenders, sliding down over his arms, and Ray did what he promised – he touched. Fingers across the buttons down Fraser’s chest, then hands on his hips to turn and switch them both around. Fraser against the door now, the want clear in his eyes and Ray said -

“I’m gonna test you, Benny.”

Fraser’s question was easily cut off by the fact that Ray chose that moment to work the buttons and belts and whatever other secret Mountie fastenings of Fraser’s pants. They were down and Fraser reached for Ray’s waist. Ray grabbed Fraser’s hands and their gaze met for a moment before he let go, moved down and brushed Fraser’s cock.

And Fraser’s eyes fluttered shut, like he had been _waiting_ for it, like he was about to fall apart from almost nothing and Ray almost threw his little test out the window right then and there. He only just held on to it by remembering how very _annoying_ Fraser could be.

“Hey, Benny? They speak Spanish in Quebec, right?” Feather-light touch of a finger along Fraser’s cock for emphasis.

And just as Ray expected, because if he knew anything in his life, it was Fraser –

“ _French_ , Ray.” His tone made Ray grin, made him give a good stoke with his hand and the gasp Fraser gave made him grin more.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Ray paused in voice but not movement and he leaned even closer, mouth against Fraser’s neck. Kissed his way up to Fraser’s ear to whisper, “There’s a president in Canada, right?”

Fraser stilled; Ray pulled back, somehow managing to keep a straight face. He was very proud.

_What the hell, Ray?_ said Fraser’s eyes.

“Prime. _Minister_ ,” said Fraser’s lips.

So Ray, feigning disappointment, stepped away completely. “Man, next thing you’re gonna tell me is that your sam black belt’s got nothing to do with karate.” And yeah, that did it, _that_ distracted Fraser from the fact that he was no longer being touched.

“Sam _black_ \--?” There was a flash of horror before Ray caught the exact moment that Fraser started to catch on to what was going on. And Fraser, being Fraser, refused to break. “Sam Browne, Ray. You know, it was called that because it was created by a man named Sam Browne because he--”

Ray was sure that wasn’t a very interesting story, and there were so many better things they could be doing; sure, he hadn’t expected Fraser to give in easily but there was no way Ray was going to listen to _lectures_.

“Nah,” he interrupted with a wave of his hand. “No one’s actually named Browne.” He grinned at the look on Fraser’s face, went back to his previous position. All of him, inches away; his mouth on Fraser’s neck, his hand on Fraser’s cock.

“Come on, Benny. _Concentrate_ , okay?”

Fraser’s only answer was a shuddery sigh, which Ray considered progress.

“How about we take a trip up North, pet the penguins?”

His hand was still, just there on skin. He was waiting for an answer, hoping for silence.

A minute jerk of Fraser’s hips as if that would spur Ray into moving his hand again, and Fraser visibly struggled with himself. This was a double threat – a wrong fact _and_ it happened to be about the land of snow? Fraser would never be able to deal.

“Well?” Ray twisted his wrist, just a little. Fraser’s hands slapped against the door behind him as if needing the extra support and Ray thought maybe it had worked after all.

“There are—there are no penguins in the Northern hemisphere, Ray.” Fraser was clearly using his powers of all-knowing to keep his mind off the lower half of his body. Ray would be impressed if he weren’t so frustrated. “Of course, some say otherwise, that--”

And, as was becoming a pattern, Ray cut Fraser off. He slid to his knees, put his hands on Fraser’s hips and looked up, part exasperated, part fond. Kind of his default expression around Fraser, and the fact that it hadn’t changed now that they were sleeping together was somehow comforting.

“You’re _killing_ me here, Benny,” he said, warm breath against Fraser’s thigh.

“I assure you that I certainly don’t mean to,” Fraser replied, hint of amusement in his eyes. He pushed his hips against Ray’s hands, which, to Ray, proved that he certainly _did_ mean to.

Ray did not tell Fraser to shut up, he did not tell Fraser to keep quiet. He said, simply, “Eskimos,” and put his mouth over Fraser’s cock.

“Oh, god--”

And _that_ was more like it, that was what Ray wanted to hear.

“In—Inuit, Ray.”

Instantly, Ray pulled back. Pushed Fraser’s hips into the door to keep them from moving, stared up at him in disbelief. Who the hell corrected a guy while getting a blowjob?

“Wrong answer.”

Ray reminded himself to thank whatever deity of Stubborn Mounties existed, because miraculously, Fraser did _not_ say that no, Ray, that was the right answer and I’ll prove it by giving a thirty minute speech on every fact not known to man about the Inuit people.

Because Ray was moving back, making like he was going to stand up, maybe even leave and all Fraser said was, “No—Ray—” and reached a hand out to him.

“You just aren’t getting it, Fraser.” Ray shook his head sadly, back to his feet and straightening his clothes. “Diefenbaker. He was named after a rock band, right?”

Ray could see the struggle on every inch of him. Fraser’s eyes cast down, lips parted, the silence building and Ray honestly had no idea what answer to expect. And then Fraser looked up, met Ray’s gaze dead on. The whole of him, against the door and debauched, pants to his ankles and shirt still done up – and he said, “Yes, Ray,” in a steady voice and Ray had never been so turned on in his _life_.

He couldn’t get to his knees fast enough.

It was so _good_ , tongue against skin, fingers sliding on hips, around to Fraser’s ass to pull him _closer_. Nothing but Fraser, his hand going to Ray’s hair, the little thud of his head hitting against the door and making Ray laugh low in his throat. He pulled off at Fraser’s warning, mostly because he wanted to _see_.

The possessive part of Ray never tired of loving the fact that he was the only person who got to see this, got to see Fraser vulnerable in a way that wasn’t painful and heartbreaking, though Lord knew he had seen that, too. There was very little Fraser could hide from Ray, and when Fraser came, he showed it all.

After what seemed like zero recovery time, Ray found himself pressed against the door, Fraser making quick work of his pants. The hand around him felt better than anything else in the _world_ , he was already so close.

Fraser licked his way up Ray’s neck, focused on his task as ever. And just as Ray was there, just as he was about _done_ , Fraser said, “Actually, Ray, John Diefenbaker was the thirteenth Prime Minister of Canada,” and Ray came because, god, how could he _not_.

*

Clean and straightened up and freshly laid, they went back to the bullpen like nothing had happened. And Ray nearly had a heart attack.

Lieutenant Welsh was at Ray’s desk, looking impatient and put out and homophobic. That last part was probably just Ray’s imagination.

As they neared the desk, Ray braved a glance to Fraser. Annoyingly, Fraser appeared calm and untouchable as always, hands clasped behind him. He greeted the Lieutenant cheerfully.

“I’m not even going to ask where you two have been,” Welsh said. “But maybe now that you’re back, you can do a little detective work?”

Ray winced, just slightly. “Yes, sir. We were just--”

“No, no. I’m sure whatever it was, it pertained highly to your open cases.” Welsh gestured towards the desk and Ray kind of wanted to crawl under it. Thankfully, that seemed to be all, because Welsh started to walk away.

Naturally, just as Ray started to relax, Welsh turned. “Oh, and Vecchio?”

“Sir?”

“Perhaps you could leave the note passing for when you’re not on duty. Unless, of course, you don’t mind them being shared with the rest of the class.”


End file.
